Adaptive Eccentricities and Strategic Social Distancing

Recently on Twitter, someone told me they had forgotten that I was a writer, even though my writing was the reason they originally began following me a few years ago. They were implying that I had either stopped writing or had altered my content to such an extent that I was no longer recognizably producing a consistent level of written output. The reality is that I write more now than at just about any time I can remember. I’ve cranked out hundreds of articles in the past year and am working on two separate (albeit small) books. I just don’t typically feel driven to write about those topics (the ones most of you interested in) anymore. Subjects like nationalism, race realism, immigration and so on…still animate me psychically to the roughly same degree, but I just don’t feel compelled to continue to generate essays on them, and for good reasons.

For one thing, doing so attracts too many crazy people. I’m not even talking about haters who get offended or groups who mobilize to try to “cancel” you. Writing under my own name, I’ve dealt with both of those things extensively over the years and found them to be a big nothing. Once you brace yourself, commit to publicly being who you are and state what you believe without remorse, the proper response to intense social pressure comes easily. All you have to say is “I simply do not care.” “I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care if you think I’m a bad person because I said this. I don’t value your opinion of me at all. I don’t care if I get fired or am completely ostracized from society. I do not care.”

No, when I say that writing about certain topics attracts too many crazy people, I’m talking about a portion of the “fans” (for lack of a better word) one slowly accumulates over the years. If you write about dissident-related or politically incorrect topics for any length of time, you will inevitably garner attention from a host of mentally ill, potentially unstable, and genuinely disturbing individuals. I’ve had a not insignificant number of lunatics contact me over the years and/or attempt to latch onto me in some way, most of whom seemed relatively normal and friendly at first, like harmless pests.

Sooner or later, they would let crazy out of the bottle, and I’d realize it was time to create some distance and slowly phase them out from my sphere of interaction. Every now and again, I will hear some random person on a podcast claim that they were influenced or “red pilled” by something I wrote at some point. This would be flattering, but it often ends up coming from some deranged lunatic. The climate being as fragile as it is, the idea that I could be responsible for “inspiring” such people is horrifying to me. It’s almost impossible to avoid when you write for public consumption, Content creators and “influencers” with more aggressive strains of narcissism than I must be plagued with will obliviously soak up admiration, regardless of whatever dysfunctional source it emanates from. The thought of reflecting on the type of audience they are attracting and what the long term ramifications of that are may never even cross their mind.

Another reason I don’t write about politics as seriously as I once did is that I’ve found that it doesn’t really matter a whole lot what you say. You can spend several years pontificating on these subjects, only to discover that most people who follow you closely do not even fundamentally grasp what your beliefs are. I don’t mean this in the sensitive, self-absorbed sense like “people just don’t get me” or “I’m misunderstood.” Rather, people’s ability to comprehend and process information is so lacking that they literally do not understand what you believe no matter how clearly and straightforward you present it. One wonders then, what is the point? Since a substantial portion of the audience (whether supporters, enemies or neutral observers) will never accurately ascertain what’s being conveyed, one can rest easy and say whatever, knowing that it really does not matter. I’m not a populist or looking to persuade the masses. I’m comfortable writing for a limited audience of people and coming up with technologically creative ways to repel the rest. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate why many prolific writers became reclusive and/or developed prickly personalities. This adaptive eccentricity just comes with the territory.

One of the things I’ve grown to despise about social media is the way it has normalized this idea that everyone is entitled access to interact with whomever they want, whenever they want. I don’t say this out of “elitism” or a feeling of personal superiority. I am simply not interested in what most people have to say and don’t feel obligated to engage with anyone just because they feel compelled to share their comments with me…in the same way that I don’t appreciate random people approaching me in the TJ Maxx parking lot and trying to have an unsolicited chat about this or that. I’m a man who has learned the value of filtration systems and buffer zones, and I use them liberally. Nowhere have they become more valuable than in the realm of social media, a world that increasingly populated by shills, junk accounts and bots, all designed to either manipulate us, influence us, farm our content for their own purposes or merely waste our time.

I hate memes, and it’s depressing how many people’s entire online identities are completely constructed around trending memetic lingo and a handful of astroturfed talking points (“Jesus is King!”,”Repeal the 19th!”,”Trust the plan!”,”Help me find my frens!”). These “people” are the political equivalent of those talking Pee Wee Herman dolls, the ones where you would pull the string and Pee Wee would spout some colorful catch phrase like “I know you are, but what am I?” Perhaps more annoyingly, these people think they’re part of something more enlightened, sophisticated or substantive than that. Perhaps there is no better representative illustration of this than the subversive “monke” meme, which—however innocent and fun it seems—could easily serve as a condescending metaphor or inside joke. No matter how self-directed and autonomous we may perceive ourselves as beings, there is always a segment of people behind the scenes who view us as little more than trained monkeys, unconsciously carrying out instructions and completing simple tasks for then benefit of those operating the controls. Return to monke? It’s obvious that most people on social media have never left! We should try adapting and evolving for a change. Even if attaining the status of humanoid grey is beyond our reach in this lifetime, It’s up to us to at least ascend to the level of awareness and agency that a zoo kept orangutan with a lavish enclosure maintains.

I shun most meme-oriented accounts these days, because I don’t even want to be influenced by this garbage subconsciously, which inevitably happens just through repetitive exposure to it. Despite having zero interest, one might still find themselves constantly using terms like “based or “coomer,” and accepting the paradigmatic framing of contemporary issues by way of algorithmic aggregation processes. Most of us have been there at some point, but once you’ve begun to break out, there’s no going back. The aversion is real, and the internal case for the great stand off is strengthened.